


Secret Romances

by Amelior8or



Series: Drarryland 2019 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley Friendship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelior8or/pseuds/Amelior8or
Summary: There's a secret in Harry Potter's school trunk, and Draco is absolutely willing to resort to scheming in order to find out what it is





	Secret Romances

**Author's Note:**

> For the Drarryland bonus prompt: Harry is hiding something from everyone, and Draco is desperate to find out what it is. Choose either ~~1) Not established relationship~~ -OR- 2) Established relationship - AND either 1) Crack!Fic 8th Year -OR- ~~2) Angst-Adults.~~
> 
> Minimum: 455 words - Maximum: 1055 words
> 
> With a big thank you to the lovely Orpheous87 for the beta!

Across the Eighth Year common room, Ronald Weasley gave him the nod. He was distracting Harry with a new version of Exploding Snap from his brother’s shop, which slowly turned your fingers numb if you missed the cards.

Draco knew what his mission was. It was dangerous, and might lead to something that couldn’t be unseen, but it had to be done.

He had to find out the secret that Harry was hiding in his trunk.

***

“It’s _got_ to be you,” Weasley had said, when they were strategizing. “I can distract him in the common room while you go. Harry only really gets distracted by you behind closed doors, and we both know he won’t take off his clothes in your room, ‘cause he’s scared of Zabini’s hidden recording devices.”

Draco had pressed his lips together, simultaneously frustrated at how correct Weasley’s assessment was, and touched by how Weasley was surprisingly… okay with Draco’s relationship with Harry. “You’re right. I can’t keep Harry out of your room long enough for him to not be suspicious. But the trunk’s still locked. How do we make him willingly give me the key so I could go to his room alone?”

“Right,” said Weasley. “About that. Are you willing to wreck your Quidditch gloves?”

***

And so Draco stood at Weasley’s nod, overtly bored with his Ancient Runes textbook. He strode over to where they were playing and watched for a round or two as Harry got trounced pretty bloody badly by Longbottom.

Then he carefully, strategically, ran his fingers along the nape of Harry’s neck, just under the hairline, saying, “Harry, can I borrow those Quidditch gloves of yours now? You said I could at breakfast, and never got around to giving them to me.”

Harry never got around to it because Weasley had “forgotten” an upcoming anniversary with Granger, and dragged him off to the kitchen for an emergency baking of a dozen lopsided cupcakes.

“Hmm?” Harry said, half turning. Draco’s fingers always broke his concentration, but this time, the concentration broke just as Weasley’s card snapped a sharp numbing shock into Harry’s palm.

“ _Ow_! Draco, can I grab it a bit later? I’ve got to _kick Ron’s arse_ right now.”

And so Draco sighed, a touch dramatic, a touch indifferent. “Fine,” he said. “Give me your trunk key, then, if you want to stay and keep your glorious winning streak. I’ll get them myself.”

“What?” Harry said. Then, “ _Fuck_ , Ron, you’ve _got_ to be cheating!”

“Your key?” Draco said.

“Uh, yeah, here,” Harry said, digging it from his pocket and shoving it in Draco’s direction, simultaneously trying to play a card with his other hand. “Neville, come on, ease up on me a bit!”

Harry didn’t even notice Draco stroll off with the key, and Draco forced himself to keep that slow, strolling pace until he turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs. Then, it was a sprint, up fifteen stairs to the landing, across to the second door on the left. The moment he closed the door behind him, Draco stilled, staring down the innocuous trunk that held Harry Potter’s secret.

It took three strides to the trunk, a quick slide of the key, a twist, and the lid was popping up.

Whatever the secret was, it was carefully wrapped in Harry’s invisibility cloak, tucked innocently up against one side. Draco took a deep breath. This was it, then. He reached for the cloth.

Harry suddenly burst into the door, panting like he had frantically sprinted up the stairs himself. “Draco, no, wait! Don’t open the trunk! My gloves are on the bedside table, and there’s nothing…”

He trailed off, because it was too late. The invisibility cloak was off, and Draco stood there, clutching it in his hand as he stared at what was underneath.

“Oh no,” Harry said.

“Harry,” Draco said, softly, sadly. “How could you keep this from me?”

“I can explain, I swear!”

There were nearly a dozen of them, clearly worn, but carefully preserved. They were Muggle books, thick with pages but still small enough to be covertly tucked into a pocket. Carefully, gently, Draco picked one up, showing Harry the muscled, shirtless man on the cover, posing stoically on a ship while his hair lifted in the breeze. Draco read the title: “A Pirate’s Passionate Tempest?”

Harry closed his eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

“Harry,” Draco said, and it was the hardest thing _in his life_ to keep his expression neutral. “This is a book about a green-eyed pirate stealing away a pale blond noble.”

“There’s nothing wrong with pirates,” Harry said.

“And this one about the posh aristocrat trying to save his reputation with an arranged marriage to a commoner?”

“Don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Draco grabbed another book. “Foreign blond prince travelling as an ambassador to negotiate with an Alpha werewolf?”

“You know, the plots of these books are actually really well developed.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Draco said. “This one here looks well-read, and it’s bookmarked at chapter fourteen. Is that one of the plotty bits? I’ll just read it and check —”

“No!” Harry grabbed for the book, flushed and flustered. “Alright, fine. I read them for the trashy bits. I like reading about posh blond snobs falling for boorish commoners. And that bit at the end, with the love confessions and happily ever afters, that’s _my favourite part_. I’ve had these books since I was fourteen, and I reckon I’ll be reading these into my old age. Happy?”

Draco blinked at the sudden and overwhelming rush of affection he felt at the sight of Harry’s pouting face. He stepped forward, cupped Harry chin, and kissed him, immediately certain that he’d do anything to be the person gifting sleazy novels to Harry in their old age. “Harry, I’m positively heartbroken at _how long_ we could have been sitting down together to read _all_ the trashy things that happen between your blond snobs and boorish commoners. Imagine the inspiration we’d have gotten!”

Harry pulled back to look at Draco suspiciously. “You’re not mocking me?”

Draco kissed him again, a little bit loving, a little bit naughty. “I’m very truly not.” He paused, then smirked. “Though I’m fairly certain that Weasley is going to have an aneurysm when he finds out!”


End file.
